Tenali praised the royal brinjal curry one week and criticized it the next. Accused of flattery, he defended the consistency of truth: the same tongue serves different facts.
At a banquet the king served an aubergine curry cooked with costly ghee. “Matchless,” Tenali declared, and ate as if praise required proof. A week later, the cook repeated the dish with unripe brinjals and urgency. Tenali pushed his plate away. “Unworthy,” he said. Courtiers hissed: “Your tongue bends toward power!” Tenali bowed. “My tongue bends toward taste, Your Majesty. When the dish was good, I praised it. Today the brinjals are bitter and the oil is tired. Loyalty does not include lying.” The king tasted again and dismissed the cook for the day, not as punishment but as rest. “A court that cannot stomach honesty,” Tenali added, “will eat gossip instead.” The lesson lingered longer than the cumin.
